Welcome Home George!

My husband is home! Hooray!!! My heart is overjoyed to have him home safely and back into my everyday life. We’ve survived our first deployment. It was filled with short Skype conversations, dropped internet calls, letters, e-mails, Facebook posts, tears, joy, fear, strength and adventure. We figure this much—if the first deployment we faced dealt with an earthquake, tsunami, a nuclear disaster, giant decisions, 18 hours of college credit, a trip to the states and back, and returning to a forever changed country—and we can easily survive it... we’re going to be able to get through anything. And hey… all of that negative stuff was just what I dealt with. George has showed grace and integrity through this all, as well as faith, commitment, and just being an exemplary American. I truly couldn’t be prouder of my man. He signifies all that I could ask for in a husband. He’s incredible, smart, brave and handsome—and I’m proud to call him mine. He really is my hero.

The day of his return there was some debate about the time he would be landing, so after receiving various phone calls and e-mails I finally got to meet up with the other spouses who’ve been missing their other-halves too. We all looked fabulous in our colorful summer dresses. Hair was done. Make up was on. Houses cleaned. Beer in the fridge. Legs shaved.

Yep, it was going to be a good day.

I had butterflies in my stomach all day and could hardly eat lunch. I felt like I was getting ready for a blind date. Except with my husband; not a stranger. MY husband was coming home. Not just my husband, but my very best friend. The one who knows all my secrets, and loves me anyway. The guy who holds my hand in the movie theater, even though it’s uncomfortable over or under an armrest. The man who counted out the exact number of M&M’s that corresponded with the number of days he would be gone so I could eat one a day until he returned. The guy who left me random notes around the house that said “I love you” and let me spontaneously find them. The man who picked out my engagement ring and proposed within a few hours because he couldn’t wait. The guy who loves me, no matter what. Him. George. He was coming home.

Four months is really not that long. I realize that. There are thousands of couples who are separated for many many many more months than we were. But even if we’re apart for a weekend, we miss each other. How could we not?

So… the time SLOWLY ticks by. We wait about an hour at the squadron until their plane landed. It was easily the longest. hour. of. the. deployment. Easily. The anticipation in the room was as thick as the humidity outside. Truly. We passed the time with small talk about our plans for the next few weeks, and taking pictures before our hair was too windblown and our make-up sweated off.




Then the loud speaker came over in the building and said they were just a few minutes out! The butterflies seemed to flit a little faster. We all finally got to go out on the flight line. We took more pictures, made smaller talk with the other uniformed guys and girls of the squadron, and waited. Then, finally… a plane. There it was! They were coming in. The next thing I knew the plane turned and did another big loop. I’m sure some people thought that was funny. I couldn’t do a thing but be annoyed. Some of you may be thinking, what’s another 5 minutes? Ummmm… hello…? My heart is racing. I just wanted him on the ground.

One of the other wives, Melissa got a little teary-eyed during this 500 year wait and I took one look at her and kind of broke down too. She quickly pulled herself together and didn’t cry anymore. I went through about 3 tissues trying to stop crying. What can I say? I’ve always been an emotional person. I am a girl. In every sense of the word. A girl. A girly girl. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Anywho, I got the tears to stop just in time for the plane to land and taxi over to us. It stopped. Finally. Then the tears came again. I pulled it back together in time to see a group a people exiting that big, shiny, beautiful C-130. (Well... it looked like it at the time... in reality it's big, dirty and not so cute) All of a sudden there were people running. Men running off the plane. Other wives running. Oh! I could run over there too! My eyes scanned this crowd of tan flight-suits and then it was like the skies opened, the humidity cleared, the sun shined, and there he was. George. My panda. He was there. In front of me. Arms as wide as his eyes. It seemed to take another 30 seconds to get to him. He picked me up, and spun me around and I sobbed. Our arms found each other’s bodies and we just held each other. And then we kissed. And then looked at each other because there’s this weird moment of “… is it really you?” And it is him. And it is me. And we’re together again. And the world seems right. It was such a special moment. We just held each other for a few minutes. I don’t recall anyone else being there in that time. In that moment, it was just us. There were no cameras, no other people, no problems, no worries. It was all lifted, and if just for a moment, it was real.

Quickly there after George and I realized there were many more people to see. The sea of green flight suits looked strange to him, as everyone else he had been with and seen for the last four months wore only tan, or the gray and Air Force blue PT uniform. But there all his friends were, green flight-suits, smiles and all. There were lots of hugs, “welcome home’s”, handshakes, and happiness.

We took a bunch of pictures with our friends and with each other, hugged and hung out for a bit. And then it was time to go home and see Cheyenne. I left George at the bottom of the stairs and went up and got Cheyenne. I told her to “go see Daddy.” Her ears perked a little more, her tail wagged a little more, and there was an extra pep in her step as she hurried down the stairs. He was knelt down, so she could get to him and they embraced and she cried too. She remembered him, and he remembered her and my heart was happy and warm because my family was once again whole.

My neighbor Jane and I had made a sign that welcomed George and her husband Dereck home, so that was a special treat for them. I also had one on my door and a little sign that pointed to his name plate that said “my hero”, as well as a few balloons inside.
















He’s been home for about 2 days now and it’s been such a nice 48 hours. We’re just taking it easy and relaxing. We might do a few day trips here and there, but nothing too crazy. We’ve cooked dinner at home, had breakfast and lunch together, shopped, and ran errands. It’s just nice to have someone to share all of those “little things” moments with. It can be lonely living alone. Even though I was CRAZY busy during the last 4 months, in those quiet hours of the night, afternoon or the morning, when there’s no TV or music on, the house is quiet, strange and well… a bit lonely. I’m just thankful he’s home safely. Finally. The world seems to spin a little more, and my heart is constantly smiling.

I’m so proud of all of our men and women in uniform, and am thankful for the families and spouses of those who support our country and the rest of the world. I beam with pride just thinking about them and the sacrifices made by all. You’re all incredible. Thank you!!!


Love,
Chelsea

Here's a final photo taken by one of the base's staff members. It's on the base's home page as well as their official facebook page and has received a bunch of "likes" and comments. It really is a fantastic photo, and will treasure it forever. :)